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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25673272">i lift my lids (and all is born again)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayfriend/pseuds/mayfriend'>mayfriend</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Damian Wayne, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Dark Fantasy, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is So Done, M/M, Masturbation, Misogyny, Omega Dick Grayson, Omega Dick Week 2020, Or whatever the equivalent is in ABO verse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape Fantasy, Sexual Fantasy, Toxic Masculinity, Underage Masturbation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:48:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,642</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25673272</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayfriend/pseuds/mayfriend</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Damian,” Father says, “you’re done for the night.”</p><p>Something ugly twists in Damian’s gut, and he chokes down his protestations even though they burn all the way down his throat. He slams every door on the way up from the cave to his room, still not smelling like his own. </p><p>It’s not <i>fair</i>, Damian reflects, angrily pacing around. Everything he said was <i>true</i>, he knew it was, it’s not his fault that Grayson is broken somehow, that he acts like something he’s not. In the League, Grayson would never be on the front lines, he would never even leave the safe confines of grandfather’s harem, properly segregated from those of superior designations. If Grayson were in Nanda Parbat, then Damian would show him just what an omega’s role is, just what an omega is <i>supposed</i> to be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>220</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Omega!Dick Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i lift my lids (and all is born again)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Day 7: <b>Sexual Fantasies</b>, Baby Fever, First Heat</p><p>Title taken from 'Mad Girl's Love Song' by Sylvia Plath.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Damian is going to be an alpha. </p><p>Most people don’t know for sure what they’re going to present as - alpha, beta or omega. It’s a toss of the dice, a guess, based on mere chance. Damian knows. Damian has known all his life. Damian is going to be an alpha; his mother didn’t leave something as important as her only child’s presentation to chance, and a few tweaks in utero meant Damian’s presentation was only a matter of <em> when, </em> not <em> what</em>.</p><p>“You will rule the world, my son,” his mother tells him when he is young, and he has no reason not to believe her. </p><p>Before going to his father, Damian had never met an omega. He had read about them - about their biological needs, their physiology and ways to identify them - but never seen one in the flesh. All of his teachers and servants were alphas or betas. Damian had asked his mother, once, why there were no omegas in the League; in response, his mother had laughed. “There are omegas in the League, my son,” she said, “but they hold no use for you as yet.”</p><p>Damian doesn’t think about omegas before Gotham at all, really, passing that momentary curiosity. One day, perhaps, Damian will desire an omega, but even then he can’t imagine it having any real importance to him, beyond as a crucible for his heirs and quenching of biological urges. </p><p>But then, Damian is ten years old, and meeting his father for the first time. His nose itches, but he has enough self control not to sniff at this strange new world, where the people cover their scents with colognes and perfumes and suppressant patches, where Batman only smells like himself, only smells like Damian, when he puts on the cowl. Bruce Wayne is known to be an alpha, yes, it’s a matter of public record after all, but he doesn’t bare something as personal as his scent in public. He smells like sandalwood, and beneath that he smells like <em> nothing</em>.</p><p>The boy wearing what is rightfully Damian’s mantle is a beta, completely unremarkable, biologically weak and naturally scentless, betraying his unfitness for his post, even if Damian is the only one who can see it; the Red Hood, when Damian finally meets him, is alpha to the bone, and there is something in his scent that reminds Damian of grandfather. Damian has been accused of tactlessness before, but he at least knows that to mention it would be ill-received at best and alienate him even further from his father at worst. </p><p>But Grayson- Grayson smells <em> sweet </em> when he removes his scent suppressors<em>. </em>Like Pennyworth’s baking and freshly cut grass, like flowers and honey and fruit. Grayson smells different to anyone Damian has ever known, and it takes him an embarrassingly long time to realise why. </p><p>“You’re an <em>omega,</em>” Damian stated triumphantly, several nights after he first arrived in Gotham.</p><p>“Gee, B,” Grayson said without looking up from the security footage he was reviewing, deadpan, “we’ve got a genius on our hands.”</p><p>Damian scowls. It’s not exactly <em> obvious, </em>and he says as much. </p><p>“What’s your idea of obvious?” Grayson asks, finally turning toward him. There’s something… heavy, in his gaze, like whatever Damian says next is important, and despite himself Damian straightens. “What would you say an omega is, Damian?”</p><p>“Submissive,” he says, starting strong as he recalls the information on omegas he’s gleaned from conversations around Nanda Parbat over the years. “Quiet, unimposing, wanton, feeble, obedient-”</p><p>Grayson looks like he’s carved from stone, and behind him, father has stopped his methodical forensic work in the corner. Damian gets the sudden, swooping sense that he’s said something wrong, but he <em> knows </em>he hasn’t. </p><p>“Go on,” Grayson tells him. Until then, Damian hadn’t realised he’d stopped. He presses his lips together. Damian is an <em> alpha </em>- almost, anyway, and alphas do not take orders from omegas. That’s definitely why. There’s not a lump in the back of his throat, or nausea pooling in his stomach. It’s ridiculous, this whole situation is ridiculous, this whole city - when mother told him that his father had some strange ideas, Damian had thought she meant about his no-killing rule. But maybe she meant this, too. </p><p>Father has raised Grayson since he was a child even younger than Damian. For Grayson to think that he is in any way Damian’s equal- in any way Damian’s <em> superior </em>- his delusions must have not only been supported by him but perhaps even encouraged. Father’s attitude to Grayson had certainly not been as Damian would expect anyone to address an omega, even one in their care. That is why it took him so long, he decides, not any kind of ignorance or failing on his part. He had expected omegas to be treated as omegas - there was nothing stupid about that. </p><p>“Damian,” Father says, “you’re done for the night.”</p><p>Something ugly twists in Damian’s gut, and he chokes down his protestations even though they burn all the way down his throat. He slams every door on the way up from the cave to his room, still not smelling like his own. </p><p>It’s not <em> fair, </em> he reflects, angrily pacing around. Everything he said was <em> true, </em> he knew it was, it’s not his fault that Grayson is broken somehow, that he acts like something he’s not. In the League, Grayson would never be on the front lines, he would never even leave the safe confines of grandfather’s harem, properly segregated from those of superior designations. If Grayson were in Nanda Parbat, then Damian would show him just what an omega’s role is, just what an omega is <em> supposed </em>to be.</p><p>First, he’d have him stripped of that suit and the scent blockers within it, he decides, so his scent and sex were exposed to all around. Although Damian hasn’t seen Grayson properly unclothed yet, his mind easily conjures up the image anyway - he’d be all golden skin, with only a thatch of dark hair over his groin that Damian would order waxed away so he was totally bare. Grayson would resist, but Damian would triumph regardless, alpha strength winning out over omega every time. Damian would keep Grayson naked, he decides, save for a collar, demonstrating his ownership. Black, he thinks, for his father’s colours, but maybe a flash of blue as well, to remind Grayson of what he once pretended to be. </p><p>When Grayson went into heat, Damian would be there to satisfy him, to show him what a good alpha does for their omega. He’d make him <em> beg </em> for him, for relief, before he finally came to him; he’d taunt and tease him until the omega was in pieces just waiting for Damian to put him back together. <em> Alpha, </em> Grayson would moan as Damian filled him up and knotted him so they were bound together, <em> please, </em>he’d beg as Damian bit him and marked him as his forever. </p><p>Grayson is undoubtedly on some form of birth control currently, but that would stop immediately as soon as he was Damian’s, so soon he’d begin to grow heavy with Damian's child, all fat and clumsy and losing his smugness as he lost his dexterity and muscles. He’d want to eat the same rubbish food he always has, in the same miniature portions he always has, like a bird pecking at seed, but Damian would make sure his omega ate everything put in front of him - he’d grow soft at the edges, like an omega should be. He’d be breathtaking, with his swollen middle and full body blush whenever he bumped into things.</p><p>Damian lets out a growl of arousal, and barely has the presence of mind to lock the door before giving into the inevitable and kicking off his trousers, his hand flying down to his rock-hard shaft. He closes his eyes, and imagines it’s not his hand at all. Imagines instead that it’s Grayson doing this, servicing him without complaint or hesitation, completely focused on Damian’s pleasure.</p><p>Maybe he’d let Grayson choose unimportant things, to make his new status less jarring, he decides - the colour scheme of the baby’s nursery, whether he carries on with yoga or swimming; even those little choices would all be Damian’s in the end, though. Grayson’s only say would be that which Damian allowed him. When Grayson wanted something, really wanted something, he’d have to convince him, with his mouth and his body and his pretty, pretty words and pleas. If he tried to act like he had in Gotham, so imperious and condescending, he’d be <em> punished </em> - Damian would paddle that glorious backside until it was scarlet, leave him gagged and silent for days on end when he dared speak back, take his hands away with stiff, fingerless, paw-like mittens so he needs to beg Damian for everything, from food and water to satisfaction and distraction. Damian can just hear his little whines, practically see his rosy cheeks as he cries, and he thinks about all the ways Grayson might apologise to him for daring to talk back to him, daring to disobey him, daring to <em> embarrass </em>him in front of father.</p><p>He thinks about how Grayson was <em> born </em> to serve an alpha, born to serve <em> him</em>, how all those years he spent with father were really just preparation for the day Damian entered his life, even if he doesn’t know it yet. Damian is the son of the Bat, the heir of the Demon’s Head; he’s more than equal to one jumped-up omega and eventually Grayson would understand that. Damian would be good to him, so good to him, just as soon as he accepted what he is, what his <em> place </em>is. It isn’t down in the Batcave, or at his father’s right hand, or up on the rooftops; it’s kneeling at Damian’s feet.</p><p>Damian’s never come so hard before in his life.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/_mayfriend_">twitter</a> and on <a href="http://mayfriend.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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